Daring Do, an agent of Warehouse 13, collects artifacts from all over Equestria to store away from the hooves of ponies where they can do harm. But the Warehouse does not go unopposed and Sun Flora, Comet Scroll, and her must protect it at all costs.
Daring Do and her partners, Comet Scroll, and Sun Flora, as agents of an undercover organization known simply as 'Warehouse 13', work to gather artifacts, dangerous objects that grant the user strange and powerful abilities, but always at a cost. It's up to them to protect ponies from these dangerous objects, and themselves.
Relatively meanwhile, the Doctor brings along a new company through out space and time: two ponies who appear very knowledgeable of the surreal, and very capable of saving ponies from even the most dangerous of situations.
MLP copyright Hasbro, Warehouse 13 copyright Syfy, Dr. Who copyright BBC, fimfiction.net copyright knightly, cover art copyright me (not really, but I did make it)
Daring Do. Those words mean a lot of different things to a lot of ponies. Inevitably to some they mean nothing, but to many they mean the greatest adventurer character in modern literature. To a few I am a friend, and to one I am a partner. Every time I talk to anypony they think I’m the author’s daughter or wife. They say I’m in a costume, or dyed to look like my favorite character. I’ve even been called a Changeling. None of those are remotely close to the truth.
But it didn’t used to be this way. As a child, no one doubted the legitimacy of my existence. But ponies change and time changes. And I mean that, not times change, time changes. I’ve known the Doctor long enough to know that.
I was lucky enough to have a normal childhood. You know, running around playing, school, and dreaming of the wonderful things you’ll never actually do when you get older. Of course I dreamed of being famous one day, I was a child. And being a pegasus I thought I’d be famous for being a Wonderbolt. That was actually my first dream, but that… let’s say it fell apart for simplicity’s sake.
Ultimately the Warehouse called me when I was chasing my dreams. I was a different mare back then, so I rejected it at first. The funny thing is that once the Warehouse calls you; you’re powerless to stop its pull on you. I ultimately accepted my fate because I got a taste of the job, the excitement. My partner, however, was not quite as enthusiastic about the job. Though he was perfect for it, constant danger was not exactly what he wanted to be surrounded by. Niether did he like how insane the job was, from the whole idea of the Warehouse to the craziness of each job.
Before I get into what I do, let me tell you about what the Warehouse does in the first place. And to explain to you what the Warehouse does; I have to explain how it started. So I’m going to take you back long before Celestia or Luna was born, before the reign of Discord, and all the way back before the evolution of modern ponies. Back then ponies were brutes, savages, uncivilized, or whatever word you choose to describe them; the point is they were different, very different. But now, ponies are not only intelligent, but there are three distinct types of ponies. This dates back to when everypony was an Earth pony, no exceptions. The way leadership was decided was through head to head duals. I mean that very literally, they slammed heads to determine who was fit to lead, and to… um… ugh…, mate.
No pony knows when it happened, but somepony got a weird bone growth on his skull, right in the middle of his head. As you could imagine, this really helped him in the competition, and after the fittest ‘survived’, a large group of them had this growth. The Earth ponies saw that they were different, and subsequently kicked them out of the land. These early day unicorns traveled out and settled in a land not too distant. Through the generations the growth began to get bigger, and eventually it grew to the shape of the modern day horns. How they gained the power of magic is still a mystery, and that’s one of the projects the Warehouse is working on; since we suspect it was an artifact.
Years later, in the land of the Earth ponies, there was a drought, and the wise fled fled to the closest mountain range, leaving the foolish starving. They both survived, and as the years went on, those who stayed behind began to grow better and better harvests. Ultimately, the wise one that moved to the mountains grew wings, and became the pegasi. How they learned to manipulate weather is another thing the Warehouse is researching; again, we believe there was an artifact involved.
And each of the races began to develop their own governments, languages, and traditions. However, the pegasi, since they lived in the sky, could not grow food, so they began an agreement with the Earth ponies to keep the weather under control in exchange for food. So too did the unicorns create an agreement with the Earth ponies, but instead of controlling weather, they promised to rise the moon and sun. Because of this agreement, the unicorns and pegasi met. Neither race liked the other, but they did reach an agreement: they would not interfere with each other’s deal with the Earth ponies and the pegasi would keep the skies calm for the unicorns in exchange for the sun and moon to be risen in such a way that the light reached the mountain home of the pegasi.
Because of these deals, there was tension between the races. Not only tension, but competition, each race wished to become independent of the other two, especially the Earth ponies. Each of the races studied closely the others to find how they performed their end of the bargain. It didn’t take long for each to discover they lacked the resources to become independent, so they decided to hold a meeting to discuss the agreements between them.
This, as you have probably realized, is the real history of the forming of Equestria, not the watered down version that is the play we all are so used to seeing on Hearth’s Warming Eve. That said, this meeting was vicious, vengeful, and about more than just food. There was no ‘Chancellor Puddinghead’ or ‘Princess Platinum’, though Commander Yuricaan (which was simplified to Hurricane, despite it actually meaning ‘God Wind’) was a historical figure. The story does preserve the middle well enough, after fierce debate they all stormed off and decided to abandon their homes in search of new lands.
They land that they all found and subsequently claimed was what became Equestria, but then, was almost the cause of a war. This is where the story rides off again, because there was no argument in a cave, and no windigos. This is why this story was altered, this is why any of it is censored, because of the manner of the forming of Equestria. Have you ever put the names of the three ponies in the play in alphabetical order? Well, they look like this:
Clover the Clever, Private Pansy, Smart Cookie
Or as an acronym, CPS. You know what really happened to the three leaders, they were murdered. Each of them was killed in by a CPS member of their own race. The CPS, as it was a historical group, was better known as the Collective Pony Society, and they were terrorists. It was their killing and taking over of the three races that lead to the formation of Equestria. They were the ones that started the Warehouse by storing the three weapons they used to kill the former leaders.
Early on they realized that the weapons would not be safe as they were, so they were transported to the Griffon Empire. Thus began the Warehouse. It traveled across the world for centuries obtaining artifacts from previous Warehouses and collecting new ones. This tradition has been continued, and has led to the making of the biggest and the greatest Warehouse yet; Warehouse 13.
Now as you probably can guess from the story, this Warehouse is slightly more significant than one that holds toys. As I’ve said, it stores are artifacts, objects imbued with properties that give their user or environment a power previously impossible to have for them or it respectively. We gather and store them because the first rule of artifacts— they always have a downside. If all the artifacts remained in the world, there would quickly no longer be a world; certainly not one worth living in.
Now what I do for the Warehouse is simple; snag it, bag it, tag it. Or more formally I find the artifacts, and neutralize them, usually in small silver bags. Then I register in the Warehouse records that it has been obtained. This is where the thrill comes from; not even my boss can guess what a pony with an artifact is thinking, or what they’ll do with it. What that means for me is that the job is always an adventure.
It is a hard job, yes, and constantly stressing, but I manage. We manage, the team, we’re more than that, we’re a family. We work together, we protect each other as best we can, but in the end, doesn’t family just break apart.
My partner’s gone, and it can be lonely. True, another great agent and close friend took his place, but having him gone just tears me apart. He didn’t die, but I could never talk to him; to him I’d just be Daring Do, that character from those books.
I remember talking to the Doctor after he had to wipe Derpy’s memory, and I asked him what it was like never being able to see your closest friend again. He told me that they all leave, because they have to. He said that in the end they just break his hearts. Now I understand how hard it is to lose someone after you try so hard to protect them.
I remember the times I spent with the Doctor well. What can I say, they were the only times more exciting than my day job. I don’t know who he has as a companion now, but I hope he has somepony. I remember how Derpy was before she met the Doctor, silly, carefree, and clueless; then I thought to the times that she helped save my life when I traveled in the TARDIS with them. It was hard when we had to drop her off, but he said it was to keep her safe. Either way I felt bad when I had to leave him after that; of course, not until we had shared some great times together throughout time and space. I’m glad we spent that time together because more than once we’ve got back together to beat whatever alien or snag whatever artifact that was too challenging for one of us. You should see us work together, unstoppable it the only word to describe us. But I guess I’m getting ahead of myself. This, as all stories do, needs to start at the beginning. Before I met my partner or began working for the Warehouse. All the way back to what should have been the best day of my life…
It had been a dark and stormy night. Dawn crept slowly through the dusty streets of the old town. A deep breath filled his nose with the scent of decaying worms and soaking wet, rotten wood. He kept his head down to help shield his squinted eyes from the torrent of rain, but it still streamed freely down his young midnight blue face. He didn’t mind the rain, it was irksome, but after a lifetime of shrugging it off, he was used to it. No one wanted to be out in such weather; in this town, you did everything you needed to do rain or shine. Usually it was shine, since it was an arid region, but when it did rained, it was a nasty storm.
There were no pegasi, they left years ago once the cherry trees died. Or rather, were kicked out for killing the trees. Truthfully they had nothing to do with the tornado that destroyed the orchard, it was one grey weathermare that caused the damage. Still pegasi were discriminated against after that, so they all left. Soon after is when the rest of the smart ponies left, once the drought started. But the overly sentimental ones stayed, and became prisoners of the Triad.
The small colt looked back at his wings through the clumped orange mane that hung in front of his eyes and released a deep sigh. Sheets of rain had glued his feathers together and matted his coat, chilling him to the bone. Oh how he wished to fly up and dissipate this and all storms that came over Dodge. Things have changed since the Triad took over, now everypony dreamed of having pegasi back. He lifted his head and looked around at the seemingly vacant houses. Each one undoubtedly had at least one pony in it, however they stand on the verge of collapse. A gale blew through the old city which seemed to creak as a whole, singing a duet with the howling wind.
With another deep breath he walked into the exchange, the shop where odds and ends, whatever strange thing that found lying around, or that family relic that was in your family for 50 generations could be traded for ‘portion cards’, which are the currency of the Triad. There were two ways to make money in Dodge since the Triad came, sell anything and everything that came into your broken down old shack and the other, well, Dawn wasn’t old enough for it, yet.
“Hey Sport,” Shifty called from the back room. Dawn didn’t know his real name, nopony did, but that didn’t bother anypony because they knew he was one of the four unicorns in town. He was the only one that could resist the Triad, and that was enough to win the trust of everypony in Dodge.
“How do you always know it’s me?” Dawn asks in his young high pitched voice.
The old teal stallion walked out of the back room smiling, “I told ya Dawn, you just make wherever you walk into more lively.”
Dawn frowned as Shifty dried him with an old towel, “Why do you always have to be so secretive?”
“So what ya got today?” Shifty continued disregarding Dawn’s question.
Dawn scraped his hoof against the splintered wood floor, “It’s heirloom day.”
“You losing anything you like?”
“No, but it was hard on my mom.”
Shifty opened Dawn’s bags with his forest green aura and floated the contents onto the foggy and cracked glass counter.
“Oh dear…” Shifty said.
“Yeah, she really did like that stuff.”
As Shifty went to get the portion cards for Dawn he couldn’t help a nagging feeling looking at the small pile that was now atop his counter. It was strange, like something there was trying to call him. He tried to resist, but his eye kept drifting to the pile.
Desperate to get his mind off of it he asked, “So ya up and flying yet?”
Dawn became solemn, and his high cheery voice dropped to a low mumble “No…”
Once more returning to the counter Shifty glanced to the pile and saw a gentle gleam of light admits the dust. Searching through with his magic to find the source he picked out a simple necklace.
“What’s this?”
Dawn returned his gaze upwards, “Oh, that was my mother’s necklace. It was given to her by my grandma.”
Deep in thought as he looked at the simple purple strap adorned with an orange wing with an ‘S’ inscribed in gold on it, Shifty considered this necklace. “Ya know, I want you to keep this, maybe it will help you fly.”
Dawn smiled, then went pale as Shifty floated it around his neck and closed it, “What are you doing?!”
“Wearing a necklace won’t kill you, besides if it’s really you’re grandmother’s than you should be proud to wear it.”
Looking at the strange box that had arrived on the porch that morning, Shifty had another idea, “Dawn, I got that box on my porch this morning, and since we don’t get mail ‘round these parts, I have a good idea who sent it.”
Of course, Dawn knew who had sent it, the Triad. They were trying to take out the only other unicorn in town, “So you want me to give it back when I go?”
Shifty nodded, “And here, don’t forget the cards from today.”
It took a moment for Dawn to gather himself when he looked at the counter, “A-all this?”
“Dawn, your mom’s a great mare, known her my whole life, and I can take a little lose once in a while to give her a hoof.”
He glanced down at the necklace he was wearing, “Thank you Shifty.”
It warmed his heart to see that he had done good for Dawn and Blossom “Now go on outta here, I’m sure your mom doesn’t want you being gone long in this rain.”
Dawn put the cards in his saddlebags and lifted the plain brown box beneath his wing. He grunted from its weight, and had to readjust it several times.
“You got it kid?”
“Yeah,” Dawn said in parting. He paused and sighed at the doorway before returning into the icy torrent of rain.
He trudged through the muddy street, sinking nearly to his knees with every step, and crisscrossing the road to be underneath the collapsing porch roves were the mud was not as deep. Once he had reached the sturdiest roof he halted, and took a minute to catch his breath. He gazed in front of him, towards the gentle grey light of a cloud covered dawn and shed a solitary tear. He, like all those in Dodge, wished only to be free from this place. A freedom that neither he nor anyone else would achieve soon, if at all. The rail road had long been broken and in the eyes of the world, this city abandoned. True, some families have come to see where their family started, but they get trap, they get enslaved, and they live the rest of their lives along with all of the ponies in Dodge underneath the oppression of the Triad.
Dawn shook his head, dispelling these thought like does every week, day, or hour he has them, and continues trotting into the harsh deluge of rain. On sunny days, those kind of days that are so innumerable the region surrounding the badlands, Dawn could walk from Shifty’s shop to the Triad’s headquarters in ten minutes, but today it would take three times as long to traverse the mud saturated street.
He was grateful that he was the most spoiled pony in town. Not because he or his mother were rich, they were two of the most poor in the entire town. No, it was because he was the only child. He was more the town’s child then him mother’s. Nopony could bare to see him suffering, so whenever they could spare something, they handed it off to him.
Even the Triad was especially nice to him, though he knew that was because they expected him to join them once he was old enough. Either way, they still had ‘acquired’ saddle bags that were not only water proof but also fit him. Dawn was scared of this especially, he knew what they were doing, buttering him up, or putting him in debt of them. Both ways lead to one eventuality, him working with the Triad to help oppress everyone else in town.
Dawn had stopped. In the pouring rain, sinking into the mucky street, and shivering. He bit his lip and continued, but not without realizing that his pause had caused the box to become soaked and saggy. He tried adjusting the box beneath his wing, causing it to finally crumble. Over the drone of harsh rain on the surrounding roves and puddles the sound of a heavy plop of a bolder on soft ground traveled strong to the ear of the pony that stood near. A wave of icy mud plowed hard into the side, knocking him off balance and consequently made him slip and fall.
In this city, getting knocked down is a part of life. By day you fall, and by night you raise solely because the sweat dreams of one day being able to stay standing tall. Being a colt in such a world has claimed stronger willed ponies than Dawn, but so far he still has held on. Lying in the mud, stuck half way into the ground he didn’t know how to stand any more. Tired, all of a sudden so very tired Dawn struggled to even lift his head.
What he saw when he did drove him on, he could stand. His dreams had come true, a beam of hope had shown down through the dense clouds and has shown on him. In the deep brown mud laid the most beautiful thing he had ever seen,
For the millionth time I returned to the observation car, bored out of my mind. The scenery wasn’t particularly interesting, but it was far more interesting than sitting in the passenger car. The rolling hills grew taller to the north, and soon we would be turning there to delve into the mountain range and ascend to Canterlot. Unfortunately, that is going to be hours from now. I rested my head against the table.
“There is nothing to do,” I exasperated.
I had made a mistake when I read all the way through the book I had brought in the first few hours of the ride. I didn’t think how boring trains could be without having friends to take with during the ride. But, the tickets were short and realistically they were all tied up this weekend anyways.
I ventured down to the cafe car since it was only a flight of stairs beneath the observation car. Once I saw the prices I nearly cried; they were so over inflated a sports stadium would consider them a rip off. My search for something to do, however, was greater than my desire to maintain the current weight of my wallet.
I picked out the snack with the seemingly highest amount of individual units and walked over to the counter. With a great reluctance I placed the six bits in front of the cashier and went upstairs. peice by peice I ate the bag of strange candies, not because they were particularly good and I wanted to enjoy them for a while, nor was it because they were bad and the only thing I had, but rather that eating them slowly would repel the monotony of the train ride for perhaps a few minutes longer.
The sun streamed down light from its highest point in the sky onto the parched summer landscape. A breeze that was bliss for the grass streamed from the train that bulleted past, allowing for the grass directly next to the tracks retain a hint of green instead of turning completely withered yellow.
I tried closing my eyes and letting the gentle tossing of the train ease me to sleep. It didn’t work. No amount of even the strongest of drugs could make me tired now, after being on this train for 17 hours, 13 of which were sleeping.
All of the other ponies are busy talking with their friends or reading their book, so I don’t want to bother them. And how did all of them manage to stay entertained? A lot of them were on this train before I was and look to have an endless supply of entertainment.
Actually, have we stopped yet?
It doesn’t look like there’s any town for miles and the train has to be using some sort of fuel. I don’t think they loaded tons of fuel on at the Ponyville stop, and even so, they would have used all of it by now. Unless, do trains run on magic? It would be efficient, though I would feel bad for the unicorns that would have to deal with riding this train for a living. I already feel bad for the conductor and the fuel shovelers, but I overheard somepony saying they get long vacations.
I wish I had a chariot, or maybe just being able to fly into the city, but unfortunately the stupid force field had to be put back up because a bunch of changelings are showing up again. The Princess says she’s working on breaking whatever magic that is robbing their freedom and forcing them to attack the city. I don’t know how she expects to do that, or even how she knows there is a spell to begin with, but I doubt that even if she exceed that anything good will happen from it. No pony want those things running around in any place remotely close to civilization.
But still, what would a changeling, assuming that such a spell is on them, be like without the spell on them? Could it talk, would it need to feed on love, or is that a fabrication of the spell? What if they were nothing more than ponies that could change shape and Chrysalis created that form to make them appear less pony like so she could lead them, brainwashed, into battle during which any number of them could die so she wouldn’t feel guilty when they did die? Did they have an empire? A cave? A hive? Where did they live?
And what of the other enemies of Equestria? What are their backstories? Who was Discord, where was he from, were there more Draconequi?
I finished off the candy and looked out the window; thankfully the mountains were creeping closer to the train. Perhaps this train ride would be over soon enough.
I looked around, mares, stallions, fillies, and colts of all different builds, heights, ages, colors, races, talents, and walks of life were sitting, standing, and trotting around the car. What were all of their stories? How did they get on this train? How were they feeling? What was their life like and how was that effecting their thoughts? Were they tired?
Then one caught my attention, he was a young colt, navy coat, softened scarlet and rich orange mane, like the sunrise over a murky night. But that wasn’t what was fascinating. He was a young colt, very young, he didn’t even have a cutie mark yet.
And no one was with him.
He was looking back and forth nervously, but I still managed to see that he was biting his lip. The way he was sitting allowed him to keep holding his saddlebag close.
Was he there a minute ago?
I looked around, nopony else seemed to notice him. I tried to look at him again, but he was gone.
“Shit!” I said as I stood up and looked around.
I scanned the car for the orange mane, and saw it exit the car heading towards the engine car. How’d he move that fast?
I jumped over everypony in the car, who were quite mad at me at this point, gliding inches from the ceiling until I landed in front of the door, bursting it open.The noise of the air rushing past me filled the car. My mane blew back from the rush of cool air, and my nose filled with the scent of mountain air.
Had we reached the mountains already?
I shook my head and continued into the next car. An initial glanced yield no avail in my search for the young colt. I stepped forward next to the first row of seats as the door clicked shut behind me and the air stilled. I knew he had to be in here, so I kept looking. I glanced up and down the aisle looking for the orange mane: hot pink, magenta, yellow, polka dotted? (Crazy fashion trends), orange!
No, too pastel.
I thought perhaps looking for his coat instead would be better: black, brown, white, blue, lavender, green, cyan. Nowhere was there a navy coat; it was like he disappeared.
I blew the strands of my mane that had been blown into my eyes by the breeze.
How could he be that fast? He was like nine!
I looked over at the old couple in the seats across the first row, they had been sitting there and looking at me strange since I walked in. Directly next to me were two vacant seats, which is why I decided to stand here, and nopony had passed me in the aisle.
So who opened the door?
I spun around and repeatedly mashed the open button, then practically yanked the door open as it creeped open. As soon as I could I hit the second door’s button I did, and slid through the crack as soon as I could. I paused and scanned the car while I waited the doors to click: one, far door closed, two, near door, closed.
So why was it still windy?
Again I 180’ed and looked through the narrow window; trough it I saw a navy blue colt running down the aisle from a wide open door.
Ignoring the ponies behind me asking me questions I chased after him, determined not to lose sight of him. For the first time I saw the wings on his side and thought that’s how he pulled that trick.
He kept running: one, two, three passenger cars. My breathing became heavy, how could this kid have so much stamina? As I ran into the first sleeper car I almost ran into the wall of the room, and had to kick off of it after slowing with my wings. Once I went around the corner into the aisle I stopped dead; he was standing there, waiting.
“What do you want from me,” He shouted. No, not shout, he spoke forcefully, but very controlled.
“I just want to talk,” I said gentle, but strained between heavy breaths.
He glared at me skeptically, so I asked, “Why are you running?”
“Why are you chasing me?” he retorted.
“Because you looked like you need help. Who’s with you?”
His eyes narrowed as the door behind me opened, breaking the silence with the rushing of air.
But something more, a muffled voice, what did it say?
“Grab him!”
I leaped forward just as the train plunged into the blackness of the tunnels. For a minute we remained in darkness before the lights flickered on in the car. Small hooves nudged at my side as a voice said, “Quick, we have to catch him.”
I looked back to who was talking to me: deep purple eyes worriedly looked back at me from behind a tattered and messy mane. A bright orange mane. From his nose flowed a tricking of scarlet over his coat. His navy coat.
I jumped up and lifted him, slamming him across the wall demanding, “Who are you?”
“Stop, you’re hurting me!” he cried.
“Who are you!”
“Let me go, I’m Good Dawn.”
I held him there, blinking at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop hurting me,” he whimpered, starting to cry, “Bad Dawn must have ran off.”
“I’m not going to fall for another one of your trick, tell me why you’re going to the engine!” I ordered.
“Look!” he shouted pointing at the vacant doorway at the end of the car.
“What about it,” I asked, forcing him against the wall again.
“There’s not a door!” He sputtered out between sobs.
I dropped him and looked towards the door. There was a second voice from behind be, so that was this kid, so the other one must be up there.
“Come with me,” I instinctively said as I ran towards the engine.
As I ran I realized that all the doors were ripped off, and only realized why when I reached the door to the engine: they were a barricade. I stood before a doorway crammed with crumpled doors as small hoofsteps approached along with heavy breathing.
